It's my aim to kill you.

Don't get me wrong. I want to play some music. I desperately want to play some music. I desperately want to play some fucking music. I want to sink into a couch with my feet kicked up, a cigarette hanging from my lips, and a guitar across my lap. I want to shake feverishly as I scream into the mic to hear myself over the other instruments. I want to jam into the wee hours of the morning until my fingers bleed, my voice disappears, and I can't hear anymore.

But things just don't work out, and it frustrates me to no end. It's right there. It's so close. But I just can't get out there with these guys and it makes me feel bad. Disappointing for them I'm sure. The dude's my friend and it's like, yeah! It's so exciting and then the next day, there's no car, the timing doesn't work out. It's just bad. It's just... I just live here with these people. In borrowed space under a roof that isn't mine. So I'm stuck going by these rules. Things will be different. But then it'll be too late. Damn it damn it damn it.

Damn it. I missed out on getting busted up by cops! Damn it! That's a life dream!

But there are some good friends out there. Good friends having good times doing good things together. Which is, you know, fantastic. I think I'm going to be more social this year. More social should equate to more confident, right? I think I'm doing pretty good with that.

'Cause I mean, I'm pretty much the best at everything.

Comments

Ashley said…

Smoking is gross.

January 12, 2010 at 8:59 PM

Gabe said…

It wouldn't be lit. It'd just be there for accent.

January 12, 2010 at 9:25 PM

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

everything is fine

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